"From the lowest depths,
there is a path to the loftiest height.
The tendency to persevere, to persist
in spite of hindrances, discouragements,
it is this in all things that distinguishes
the STRONG SOUL from the weak."
Have you ever wonder how it feels to be very much frustrated in getting those things that will bring color and beauty to your life? It's like you're buried ten meters deep below the earth's crust and you're really trying your dumb hardest just to get out, to reach the top and feel the very essence of mankind.
You want it.
Yes you definitely want it for you know that it will satisfy you, and the point of losing it will disturbed every bit of nerve in your body.
But what if it was a mistake? Perhaps, indeed.
A part of me longs for it, while the other half is fighting so hard not to take the courage of doing it.
Yesterday I'm thinking as if it was the first or the last day of my life, for it was the moment when I have taken the chance of fulfilling this things that I longed for.
Yes, I had made it!
And now I am regretting everything as if it was the biggest mistake I've ever done in my entire life, because now I know that I've quit myself for taking such risk for I hold on much harder to what I believe is right.
But I have neglected it...
...and it kills me!
Today I think it was another morning, not so typical yet so fragile. I don't know why I described it as fragile, still I insist it was a fragile morning. The air was blowing so lightly, so helplessly like you can hardly feel it touching your bare skin. The cloud was thick and it brought a little splash of rain shower this morning. Yes, the sky was filled with clouds but the sudden light of the sun was forcing its own courage to brighten the early Sunday morning.
My first morning of lucidity.
The start of the new chapter of my life. And this morning, perhaps defines my inherent personality... FRAGILE. Like one thing could change everything. One great thing can shatter me into pieces.
And today, as I face the horizon, I assumed that a breath in a single minute will change everything in me. Twenty-four years, I think sometimes, and despite my own acceptance of the truth I am now knocking at the door of maturity, the period of early adulthood. I wonder if this is how it is for everyone my age.
At this moment I persevere to answer a single question before it leaves me hanging into nothingness.
What is Life?
For me it is the easiest thing to deal with yet the hardest word to define. Maybe because life doesn't begin with once-upon-a-time, and ends with a happily ever after. Life was not a fairy tale and it was not that simple. In fact I'm trying almost everything just to give it a pervert definition. But it's hard looking for specifics and much harder to find the real meaning. Maybe because that's what life really is. A single-word which elucidates infinity that cannot be measured by any numerical probability.
It's rude eventually, but for me, life is like masturbation. It begins with a single touch, light and speeds momentarily, enters the world of vivid fantasy, lurks a sudden felicity, releases a gasp of integrity, reaches the peak of orgasmic imagery, and ends with a lucid moan of satisfaction.